The Thick of It
by sherlockedbyben
Summary: When the Doctor realises that he has a duplicate in the form of Malcolm Tucker, he and Clara go to investigate why this sweary Scotsman is identical to the Time Lord. Clara begins work at the British government to keep an eye on Malcolm, but can't help falling for a slightly psychotic Scotsman by the name of Jamie McDonald in the process.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi guys! Decided to write a doctor Who and The Thick of It crossover because it just had to be done with Peter Capaldi as the new Doctor! I mean come on, the fanfiction possibilities are endless! :D**

**So I had this idea whirling round in my head for ages and finally just decided to write it. It's actually going to be a Clara Oswald/Jamie McDonald pairing, 'cause I just love that Scottish pyscho and I want to try and make the pairing work :)**

**Just as a warning, this will be quite sweary as it's The Thick of It, so if you find that kind of stuff offensive you probably shouldn't read it, I'm usually not that much of a sweary person either but I want to get into the characters for this :P**

**I don't know if I'm even posting this in the right place cause it's a crossover but I said I'd post it here as it's mainly Doctor Who centred so would make more sense, and hey, it's not harming anyone :)**

**Disclaimerrr: I own nothing, nope nothing**

**So hope you enjoy it guys! If you want, leave a review to let me know what you think and if I should continue :) Thanks!**

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Clara Oswald let out an indignant huff, slamming the wooden spoon down on the polished surface of the kitchen counter.

She was baking again. It was something she did when she was stressed. Of course, now that she thought about it, it seemed to make her more stressed.

"Oh, I don't know why I bother," She winced as she withdrew the cremated remains of a soufflé from the smoking oven. She coughed and squinted through the haze, batting her ovenmit-clad hand at the air to waft the smoke away.

Things had been difficult since the Doctor's regeneration into Time Lord number twelve and she had found herself attempting to bake soufflés more than usual. She had been getting used to him though, and after a few more Wednesday adventures together had realised that no matter what he looked like, he was still her best friend. So what if he had sneezed and turned into a middle-aged Scotsman? She was Clara Oswald, the Impossible Girl, she could deal with it. What was mostly irritating her at the moment, apart from the burnt soufflé steaming on the flour impregnated counter, was the fact that she was currently unemployed.

She knew it shouldn't bother her that she had lost her job as a teacher, but it stung. She understood that having to leave her teaching post would be inevitable when she began travelling with the Doctor more frequently, but now she wanted more independance. Especially since her time in the Tardis had been limited to Wednesdays again. She had carefully explained to the Doctor that she wanted to live her own life aswell, "But don't you even _dare_ think about not showing up on time every Wednesday, Spaceman!"

She groaned as she caught sight of her reflection in the shiny metal kettle. She was covered in flour from head to toe. She had even managed to get it on the walls! The Tardis let out an amused hum as she attempted to brush the powder from her messy bun.

"Are you laughing?" She scowled at no one in particular, folding her arms across her chest indigantly. "You are aren't you! Well I'd like to see you try bake a soufflé you-"

"Clara!"

She raised an eyebrow at the light Scottish accent floating down the hallway in her direction.

"We'll talk about this later, Box," She nodded briskly at the Tardis, feeling slightly foolish for arguing with a spaceship.

"_Claraaaa!_"

"I'm coming!" She yelled, running towards the more insistant yell and trying to brush the remaining flour off her casual clothes on the way.

She burst into the control room, popping her head round the door with a cheeky grin.

"What is it, Doc?"

The tall, silver haired was clutching the console with both hands as he gazed at a small screen protruding from the machinery with a perplexed frown. He scratched his head, not responding to her prescence.

"But it can't be..." He trailed off slowly, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he squinted at the screen.

"What is it? Space troubles?" Clara bounded over to where he was standing and peered over his shoulder at the screen. She squinted in confusion.

"Doctor, that's you."

"Hmm, what?" The Doctor looked up as if only just realising she was there. He broke into a smile and clapped his hands together. "Ah yes, Clara! Good news! Confusing, perlexing, irritating, but good! You said you wanted a job, well I've found you one."

Clara raised an eyebrow but was unable to keep herself from smiling at the Time Lord. She had gotten used to his new mannerisms and quirks quite quickly and he made her laugh.

"Alright then, I'm listening," She leaned against the console and looked up at him expectantly.

"British Government, how does it sound?"

"You what?" Clara straightened up slightly, thinking he was joking. She had never considered working in Government before, had never really thought it was her thing but now that she considered it the idea seemed quite appealing. She knew, however, that it was extremely difficult to get a good position and she hadn't even been trying.

"You, work, government, now."

"Look, I know I said I wanted to find a job but..." Clara frowned, puzzled. "The British governement? What's brought all this on?"

"This, my dear Clara, is what has brought all this on," The Doctor's face turned more serious as he grabbed the screen and turned it towards her. She gave it a quick glance but dismissed it quickly.

"Well, it's a picture of you," She shrugged, unconcerned. "What's the big deal? It looks like a profile of yo... Hang on!"

She grabbed the screen with her own two hands and brought it closer to her face. It seemed to be a profile, a profile of a government minister. Only the picture was of the Doctor. the Doctor standing right beside her who she was pretty certain was not working in government, unless every time she left the Tardis briefly he was off discussing politics. The main thing wrong with the profile was that the name of the man identicle to the Time Lord was not "The Doctor". It read Malcolm Tucker.

"Doctor, I thought your alias was John Smith, not Malcolm Tucker."

"That's the thing!" The Doctor growled in frustration. "That is not me! That man is nothing to do with me, nothing whatsoever. He's not a clone of me, not some sort of doppelganger, he has his own life and has had for the past fifty years! I researched him."

"But, if he's nothing to do with you then why does he looked the exact same as you?" Clara wondered aloud, feeling shrouded with confusion.

"Or why do I look like him," The Doctor muttered obscurely. He shook his head as if to rid himself of the puzzlement but then brightened considerably. "Anyway, you start tomorrow!"

"What?" Clara was taken aback. "You want me to work in the governement, what, to find out about your long lost twin?!"

"Clara," The Doctor sighed, placing his hands on either of her shoulders. "You said you wanted a job, now I've got you one. Be grateful."

"But... But I want a proper job! I don't want to be spying on somebody, pretending to work for them!" Clara spluttered indigantly. She knew she was being fussy and she really badly wanted to help the Doctor out, but if she was going to start working in the government, she wanted to do it right. She wanted a proper job and she was not willing to jeopardize it, especially not one where she would be in the public eye at all times.

"You won't be spying," The Doctor scoffed. "Well not the entire time. Oh, don't look so worried," He chuckled, lifting her chin up with his finger at her conerned frown. "You can do this job properly, hang on to it, make it a serious career if you want. All I need you to do is simply... Observe from time to time."

"Oh, go on then, give me my binoculars and I'll get stalking," Clara rolled her eyes with a soft chuckle. "Alright, alright," She relented, not too unwillingly. Now that she was giving it serious thought, she was quite intrigued as to what it would be like to work in government. "I'll do it."

"Oh, Clara you are a star!" The Doctor grinned, kissing her hair quickly and looking like a child on Christmas day. "You start tomorrow, which is five minutes for us. Go get ready!"

"Oh, God, okay," Clara squeaked, startled. She ran to the door, stopping short of it and looking back at her friend. "Oi, wait. What exactly am I working as? 'Working in government' is quite a loose term you know, even by your standards."

The Doctor shrugged and mumbled something incoherent about 'starting from the bottom'.

"Oi!" Clara stalked over and cocked her head to the side. "Sorry, didn't quite catch that."

The Doctor sighed and rolled his eyes. "I had to get you working closely with Malcolm tucker and the only place free in his department at the moment is a secretary."

"A _secretary?_" Clara squeaked in indigantion. "Doctor!" She moaned. "I wanted to be respected and all that, I thought you get me some cool title or something!"

"Beggars can't be choosers, lass," The Doctor's lilting Scottish brogue chastised her in a sing song tone as he ushered he out the door into the hallway.

"Beggars," Clara rolled her eyes. "Secretary! Staring at a computer screen all day, where's the fun in that?!"

Nevertheless, she decided to be grateful and skipped off down the corridor to get ready.

"You said you wanted a job!" Clara could hear the smile in the Doctor's voice as she left him to go make herself look presentable.

"Oh God!" She cried as she stared into the mirror in horror. She hopped straight into the shower, eager to rid herself of all traces of flour. She made sure she was quick as she didn't want to keep the Time Lord waiting. His patience had wavered in this new regeneration.

She picked out some clothes that she decided stated, 'Office worker with class', a light coloured blouse and short skirt that came just above her knees. She left her hair loose around her shoulders and applied minimum make up. She found herself wanting to make a good impression, firmly deciding that she wanted to keep this job. Maybe she could even work her way up to getting a promotion. She almost laughed at her eagerness to do well in this job, though she hadn't even considered it before the Doctor had mentioned it to her.

Satisfied that she looked presentable, she returned to the impatient Doctor waiting in the control room. She did a mock curtesy, causing the Time Lord to laugh as he piloted the Tardis towards their destination. London, 2014.

"Come on then," The Doctor proffered his arm to her after their quick, surprisingly pleasant flight. They stepped outside the doors and Clara breathed in a deep breath of fresh air with a grin. It felt like ages since she had been on Earth.

She looked up in bewilderment as they approached the huge, looming goverment building. It all looked very efficient and professional. She tightened her grip on the Doctor's arm involuntarily, feeling a twinge of nervousness. She had never done anything like this before and she wanted to make a good impression. She had no idea what it was going to be like and that frightened her slightly. Monsters, aliens, she could take it but going for a new job and not having a clue what could happen caused dread to form in the pit of her stomach.

"Doctor!" She hissed, pulling him back as he was about to stride through the glass door. "You can't just walk in there! Your duplicate could be two feet away!"

"Relax," The Doctor rolled his eyes, pulling her through the door. "If we see him, I'll make myself scarce."

"I really think you should leave this to me," Clara grumbled, glancing around the large lobby for the Doctor's twin. "You could cause so much trouble."

"Come on, Clara, you don't really expect me to miss out on something like this, do you?" The Doctor scoffed. "Anyway, he could be dangerous. Whatever's going on here, it's not right, we shouldn't be identicle."

"Is it not possible that you could just have a twin you don't know about?"

Clara was silenced by a look from the Doctor. She gawked at her surroundings. She had never been anywhere like this before. She really hoped the people would be friendly.

"Malcolm!"

At first Clara ignored the call, assuming it was aimed at someone else.

"Malcom!"

The Doctor and Clara both turned around at the second, more insistent call to see a short, plump woman wearing a suit come rushing towards them. She brushed her short brown hair out of her face as she approached them, looking slightly nervous as she looked at the Doctor. No, not nervous, more like terrified.

"Malcolm," She repeated, slightly out of breath from rushing over. "I've been looking for you everywhere! There's a... Um well you see... There's a slight... Look, Malcolm, it wasn't anything to do with me I swear-"

"No need to get so worked up, love, what is it?" The Doctor smiled in amusement at the flustered woman. She blinked at his kind tone, taken aback.

"Well," She cleared her throat, casting the Doctor a slightly suspicious glance. "There's been a leak. One of the papers. The place is in chaos up there, we don't know how or who leaked them but Jamie knows about it and well you know Jamie."

"Ah yes, of course I know Jamie, lovely fellow," The Doctor smiled, patting the woman on the shoulder. "Come on then, let's go investigate this leak. Have you considered getting a plumber in?"

The woman looked at him in astonishment and slight fear. She let out a choked chuckle, clearly thinking he'd meant it as a joke.

"Oh um... Well, right... Right this w-way, Malcolm," She stared at him wide eyed with confusion and scuttled away, Clara and the Doctor on her heels.

Clara pinched the Doctor's arm and gave him a glare.

"You're acting suspcious," She hissed quietly. She had no idea what this Malcolm Tucker was like, but she was sure the Doctor wasn't impersonating him very well. The Doctor made an indignant noise and Clara shook her head, quickening her pace to match the woman's.

"Hi, I'm Clara," She smiled warmly at her. "I'm supposed to be working in Malcolm Tucker's department. New secretary?"

"Terry," The woman smiled back with a small nod. "Oh yes, in the place of the woman who just resigned. Well I say resigned, Malcolm sacked her," She gave the Doctor a wary glance as he walked silently behind them. "He um..." Terry lowered her voice to a whipser and stared at Clara with wide eyes. "Has he been taking something?"

"I uh..." Clara paused, shooting the Doctor a wide eyed glance. What was this Malcolm Tucker like if Terry assumed he was on drugs just because he was being nice? "I don't think so," She replied safely.

Terry shook her head incredulously and carried on walking up the many flights of stairs. Clara clutched her bag to her chest, slightly out of breath from all the walking. The reached a landing of sorts, where if you looked down you could see they lobby the had been in previously.

Clara looked up and felt dread shoot through her. A good bit ahead of them, just around the corner talking animatedly to another man in a suit, was, if Clara didn't know better, the Doctor. But of course, it wasn't the Doctor. He was right behind her. This man was Malcolm Tucker.

"Well, Clara," Terry spoke up again, not having spotted Malcolm as of yet. "I suppose I should show you where your station is, how things wo-"

Clara never got to hear the end of her offer as she was pulled quite rudely into the bathrooms. Not just any bathroom she realised with a groan as she spotted the urinals on the wall. It was the gents.

"Doctor!" She hissed at the guilty looking Time Lord, grateful that they were alone in the room. "I have to go back out there! That was Malcolm Tucker, he could've seen you!"

"I know, I know," The Doctor held a hand to his lips in thought. "Okay, maybe me coming here wasn't such a good idea after all."

"No, it wasn't!" Clara struggled to keep her voice down. "I will help you out here, Doctor, but I want a good shot at this job too. You have to get out now without being seen."

"I'll just stay here a little while longer," The Doctor hushed her as she tried to object. "I'll be careful, Clara, I swear. I'll keep out of sight."

"Better keep out of trouble too," Clara grumbled but she couldn't help but smile. "That Terry one was terrified of you, you know."

"I know, how bad can this Malcolm bloke be?"

"Not half as bad as you, rebel Time Lord," Clara winked and gave him a brief hug. "Thanks for getting me this job, Doctor. I have to go, you stay out of trouble, right?"

"Of course," The Doctor grinned, twirling his sonic screwdriver between his fingers. Clara gave a light chuckle and slipped out of the bathroom, hoping the eccentric Time Lord didn't attempt to scan the urinals for traces of alien life forms.

She looked around and ending up bumping into Terry, quite literally.

"Oh!" She exclaimed. "Sorry, Terry."

"Clara! Where were you!" Terry cried, flapping her hands about in distress. "Never mind that, I just saw Malcolm again and let's just say he's bounced back after his little happy spell." Terry raised her eyebrows and gave Clara a knowing look. She nodded slowly, trying not to look too confused. "I want to try and keep out of his way while he's on a rant and I think you should too."

Clara hurried after Terry as she walked briskly down the hall, scanning around fearfully as if looking out for Malcolm. The man couldn't be that bad, could he?

"Look, Clara," Terry turned to her, holding up her hands in front of her in a consoling way. "I have to go, if Malcolm finds out I'm not in my office working, well, I don't want to know. You just pop in there to that room there, I'm sure Glenn will fill you in on what's happening. Don't worry, you'll be fine!"

Terry practically pushed Clara into the adjacent room and left abruptly. Clara felt suddenly nervous again as she stumbled into the room. Thankfully it wasn't filled with people. The only two there were a blond woman and a middle aged, grey haired man who were both looking quite perplexed. Their heads both snapped up when Clara walked in, their expressions visibly relaxing as they saw who it was. Or rather, who it wasn't.

"Oh thank God," The man wiped his brow nervously, slumping down in a chair in relief. "I thought you might be Malcolm. Heard he's on the war path."

"Oh, no, just me, Clara," She gave a small wave and moved to sit down beside the man, peering around the small room. It was mainly empty except for a few chairs and a desk with some office equipment on it, soft classical music playing in the background.

"Glenn," He nodded at her, his frown lifting as realisation dawned on him. "Oh, you're the new secretary, aren't you? Well God fucking help you."

Clara blinked in surprise at the slight outburst. She recover herself and raised an eyebrow. "Anything I should be worried about?"

"Only Malcolm bloody Tucker," the blond woman grumbled, looking apprehensive. "Emma, by the way. He's always angry about something, trust me. I don't even know what it is this time."

"Not the happiest of people then?" Clara joked lightly.

"You can say that again," Glenn scoffed. "He could psychologically maim you for saying hello the wrong way. I'd know, I've been scarred for life."

Clara laughed lightly, trailing off slowly into silence as she realised that Glenn was being serious. This Malcolm Tucker sounded like a psychopath.

She jumped, startled as the door slammed open with a loud bang and a furious looking man stalked in, hands balled into fists. The expression 'If looks could kill' came to Clara's mind.

"Ey, horse of the year, was it you?"

There was a pause as Emma stuttered slightly, tripping over her words in her fear at being spoken to directly by the man. "Was what me?"

"Answer the fucking question!" The man roared in a thick Scottish accent, rage burning in his eyes. "Was it you?!"

"Was what me, Jamie, I- I- I have no idea what you're talking about."

Emma was visibly cowering in her seat at the intimidating Scotsman Clara now knew as Jamie. She had never seen anyone looked so angry, or frightening.

"She can't answer the question, can she?" Glenn pitched in bravely in an attempt to rescue Emma from her frightening situation. "She can't answer it unless she knows what it is."

"Shut the fuck up, Grandad!" Jamie yelled, looking murderous. "When I'm talking to her, I'm talking to her. When I say shut the fuck up, I'm talking to you."

"Glenn blanched. "I just-"

"Shut it, twat!" Jamie turned to the desk beside him and picked up a hole punched. He took a step towards Glenn and brandished it at him aggressively. "Want me to hole-punch your face?!"

"Oi!" Clara piped up, not understanding what exactly was going on but feeling annoyed that Jamie was making Glenn feel like crap. If there was one thing she hated and was intimidated by, it was excessive swearing and this man's vocabulary seemed to consist of nothing but. She tried not to cower in her seat as Jamie fixed his intimidating gaze onto her.

"Who the fuck are you?" He stated incredulously as if only just realising she was there. Clara realised that he hadn't actually meant it in an offensive way, his use of colourful language was simply part of his everyday vocabulary.

"Clara Oswald," She struggled to keep her voice even, refusing to be intimidated. "I've just started working here."

"Well good fucking luck to you, lass," Jamie stated almost impatiently. "Have you got something to fucking say?"

Clara paused. She hated to admit it to herself, but she was frightened by this man's presence. He looked fit to kill someone.

"I just don't see why you're shouting at them," She attempted a nonchalant tone. "Don't talk to them like that, it's rude!"

"Rude?" Jamie took a step closer. "The only rude thing here is the fucking bullshit that's stinking up the place."

"Why, what's going on?" Clara questioned quietly, unsure she wanted to know the answer.

"Oh, I'll tell you what's fucking going on," Jamie growled turning his scowl back to a frightened Emma. "You, leaked Liza Wells' paper to the BBC, right?" His glare turned earnest and more intimidating than ever he spoke slowly. "Now, tell me you leaked it."

"I- I didn't leak it!"

Jamie's voice was deadly calm but held promise of a storm brewing. "I know the leak came from in here. From this fucking fax machine right here."

"No, there's no- There's no way!"

Clara felt increasingly sorry for Emma as she squirmed in her seat out of fear for being blamed.

Jamie's glare was threatening as he strode over to the fax machine and began to push it slowly off the table. "Do you see what I'm doing to this machine?"

"Jamie, don't-" Emma began but was cut off by the loud crash of the fax falling off the table and clattering to the floor. Clara gaped at the scene in front of her, wondering if she should do something but thinking better of it. Emma jumped up and backed away. "Jesus Christ! Jamie what the fuck?!"

Clara's eyes widened in shock and she and Glenn exchanged a worried glance as Jamie began kicking the machine repeatedly, the look in his eyes becoming more manic by the second.

"Do you see how angry I am with this piece of office equipment that leaked this document? Huh?!"

"Glenn-" Emma began, looking to her colleague for assistance. Jamie continued kicking the machine, more and more aggressively. Clara felt intimidated, she was extremely glad she wasn't on the receiving end of his rant.

"Can you even imagine," Jamie continued, his voice becoming louder with each kick. "How angry I am with the person who leaked it? Can you? Can you, huh? Can you, Emma?!"

"Jamie, it was me."

Clara looked up at Glenn, incredulous.

"Glenn," she hissed. She quite liked Glenn and did't want him to be any more psychologically maimed than he already apparently was. "Do you have a death wish?"

"Oh, don't get all fucking Spartacus on us now," Jamie yelled, his temper flaring.

Glenn stood his ground. "I leaked it."

"Glenn, what are you doing?" Emma hissed fearfully.

"Hang on, hang on," Jamie put up his hands in a violent, aggitated gesture, looking frustrated. He began to shout loudly, causing Clara to jump. "For a start, turn that fucking racket off!"

Clara realised that he was referring to the classic music playing in the background. There was a scuffle to turn the noise off but Jamie was already on it.

"It's just vowels!" He roared. "Subsidised foreign fucking vowels! The only reason you listen to this shit is because it's bad form to actually wear a hat that says "I went to private school"!"

Clara had to bite back a laugh at his outburst, no matter how intimidated she was. She had to admit, his insults were quality.

"So tell me now, right," Jamie growled, rounding on Glenn. "who did you leak it to?"

"I just sent it. I read it, I thought it was important-"

"Good! Good! Fine! Fine!" Jamie yelled and pointed to the machine lying in tatters on the ground. "See that fax? Yeah? _That _is your career, and I think it might be fucked. But let's just check," He gave the broken machine another few violent kicks. "Yeah, yeah it's pretty fucked. Now, I hope you can play the spoons. Because, I mean, you're too old to go back to being a gentleman's fluffer, aren't you?"

Clara looked to Glenn, feeling sorry for him. Jamie left the room with an exclamation of something that sounded a lot like, "Christ on a bendy bus! Fuck!" and Clara scurried out after him, casting Glenn and Emma an apologetic look as she left.

She wasn't completely sure why she was following Jamie, but she decided that it was better than staying in that room with the broken fax. She was astounded at the man's vocabulary, she had never encountered the like of it and she had seen a lot of things on her travels.

"Oi! Scotsman, wait up!" she called, quickening her pace to match his. Walking beside him she realised he was shorter than she had first thought, though still slightly taller than her. His hair was brown and slightly disheveled, probably from getting quite physical in his rants, Clara noted from experience. He was quite good looking, she realised with a slight blush, even if he was intimidating.

"Well, if it isn't Glenn Cullen's little fucking bodyguard," Jamie grimaced, walking briskly as Clara struggled to keep up. "What do you want, lass, I'm fucking busy."

Clara decided to rise above his flippant, rude attitude and raised an eyebrow at him challengingly. "Well for one thing, have no idea where I'm going. Would you care to show me, preferably without swearing?"

"Oh, just fuck off and follow the yellow brick wank stained road," Jamie snarled, pointing at the corridor in front of them. "Look, I'm not in the best of fucking moods. In fact, I quite want to gauge someone's eyeballs out and feed them their fucking optic nerve on a silver fucking platter."

"Alright, alright!" Clara frowned. She braced herself for another onslaught of insults. "Are you always this pleasant or am I just special?" She grumbled. "Honestly, you're like a walking encylopedia of psychotic swear words!"

Jamie's eyes widened. "You cheeky little..." He looked as if about to call her something extremely clever and offensive but Clara cut him off.

"So, Mr. I Can't Say One Sentence Without Swearing," Clara raised an eyebrow and continued in a light sarcastic tone. "Are you gunna show me where I'm working then, eh?"

Jamie's lips twitched slightly and for a terrifying second she thought she might have sent him over the edge and into a seisure of psychotic insults and she wasn't sure she would be able to handle that. To her immense surprise, he actually cracked a grin and shook his head in disbelief. Clara liked the way it lit up his whole face. his big blue eyes dancing with mirth.

"You know, I can't figure out if you're smart or fucking stupid," Jamie continued in a light tone before she could object with indignance. "You try to fucking have a conversation with me after I fucked a fax machine into paralysis and almost made a grown man cry," He paused and looked at her incredulously. "I like you."

Clara smiled in disbelief at the turn the conversation had taken. She had been prepared for a severe onslaught of vicious insults. She blushed slightly at the compliment from the madman.

"Clara Oswald, wasn't it?" Jamie nudged her shoulder slightly. "Jamie MacDonald."

"Also know as the crossest man in Scotland?" Clara teased with a grin, tongue poking out from between her teeth.

"I think you'll find that priviledge extends to outside Scotland aswell, we're in fucking England, lass, go look at a fucking map," Jamie smirked. "Alright come on, I show you where the shit hits the fan."

Clara quickened her pace to match Jamie's as he began to walk faster, a look of grim determination on his face. His mood had improved slightly, but not altogether.

"You know, you didn't have to be so aggressive with them back there," She said almost timidly with a small smile. She was cautious not to say anything too indignant as she sure as hell didn't want to do anything to provoke him. She didn't fancy being yelled at by him, even if he had cracked a smile at her words.

"Aggressive?" Jamie scoffed. "I was going fucking easy on the twats."

"Hate to see you on a bad day then," Clara smirked and raised a challenging eyebrow, feeling less intimidated as the conversation went on, although she could still almost feel the anger radiating off the angry Scot.

"Every day's a fucking bad day, Ozzy. This place reeks of bullshit and I have to clean up the mess after these wankers."

"Hey!" Clara objected lightly as they walked, smirking slightly at the use of nickname. "They seem nice. Well Glenn does."

"Glenn," Jamie scoffed, looking at her with wide blue eyes. "That bag of useless doubt? Every talk with him is like a fucking sumo fight, and he's lying on the ground in a fucking nappy."

Clara attempted to scowl at his mocking tone, but couldn't help but crack a grin. Before she knew it, they were both laughing.

"God, I didn't know what I was getting myself in for, coming to work here," She laughed, beginning to like the angry Scotsman.

"Yeah, you should've run while you had the chance," Jamie grinned. "Too late now, the stuff of nightmares is coming our fucking way. Say hello to fucking death personified."

Clara was slightly confused about how he was talking about "death" with such a cheerful tone. She looked up to see the Doctor's duplicate stalking towards them with a murderous expression on his face.

"Woke up wrong side of the bed?" Clara joked, trying not to let it look like she was intimidated.

"Every side of his bed is the wrong fucking one," Jamie shrugged lightly. "Personally I don't think he even sleeps in a bed. More like the bed sleeps on him."

"Who- Who is he?" Clara asked, almost certain that this was Malcolm Tucker but wanting to make absolutely certain. She was still finding it hard to believe that this wasn't the Doctor.

"Cunt Who Must Not Be Named," Jamie patted her on the shoulder with a smirk. "How do you not know who this ray of fucking sunshine is?"

He raised a hand to Malcolm then flipped it to turn it into a rude gesture involving his middle finger. Clara was shocked. From what she'd heard of Malcolm Tucker, he wasn't to be messed with. But then again, Jamie did seem to be slightly mad.

"Hey, Malc!" He yelled as the dreaded Tucker approached. "How many did you massacre this morning?"

"Not e-fucking-nough," Malcolm growled. He caught sight of Clara. "Who the fuck is this?"

"Clara Oswald," Jamie nodded to her. "Clara, meet Malcolm F. Tucker. The F stands for fucking."

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**First chapter down :D If you want, leave a review to let me know what you think, or leave any constructive criticism :) Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's the second chapter! Hope you're enjoying this, I'm having a great time writing it :D If you want, leave a review to let me know what you think :)**

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"Um, h-hello," Clara stuttered, feeling unnaturally offput. She wondered briefly if she should shake his hand but wasn't sure if he'd approve. He seemed to her like a volcano on the brink of eruption and she didn't want to disturb the peace. She wasn't usually so unsure of herself but she'd had no idea things were going to be like this, and the fact that this man shooting daggers at her looked exactly like the Doctor was extremely disconcerting for her.

"The new secretary?" Malcolm asked, glaring at her through his beady eyes like an eagle about to pounce on its prey. "About fucking time, love! You've a fuckload of tunneling through shit to get through and I want it done ASA-Fucking-P, right?"

"Right, right," Clara huffed as Malcolm took hold of her arm and promptly began to drag her down the corridor into a wide office. "Oi! I can walk just fine myself thanks. I have legs."

"I'm sure you have, you sleek Oxbridge dictionary twat, but a lot of people have fucking brains and they don't use them do they?" Malcolm growled, not releasing her. "Just ask the previous secretary who's currently crying her eyes out because she got sacked."

"Ay, go easy on her, Malc, she's alright!" Jamie called lightly from behind them and Clara felt somewhat grateful to him.

Clara pulled away from Malcolm's grasp just as they entered a large office filled with bustling people with stressed expressions dominating their features. She made out Glenn amounst the crowd and gave him a small wave. He looked up at her and smiled, the beam slipping from his face sharpish once he saw who she was with. She peeked at Malcolm. She already knew he was rude and sweary, but how bad was he that one glare from him could send someone into a panic attack?

"Right, you, get into your office, sit down, start tapping away on your little keyboard like a fucking insect with a million legs being chased by a fly swatter," Malcolm pushed her into a glass walled office off the side of the room. "Emails, fucking stats, information, email them fucking wads of information! Get this leak out of the limelight or I swear to fuck I'll- Jamie! What the fuck are you doing?! We need him alive!"

Clara spun around in her uncomfortable office chair as she turned her laptop on, curious and slightly alrmed as to what Jamie had done.

"God!" She exclaimed, her voice going unheard over the shouts of the angry Scotsmen.

Malcolm was pulling a vicious looking Jamie away from a startled Glenn as the younger Scot practically growled at the frightened man.

"I'm gonnae kill 'em," Jamie roared, pushing Malcolm off him forcefully and taking a step towards Glenn again. "Pick up the fucking phone, Clara, you're gonnae have to call the police. I'm gonnae fucking kill 'em!"

"Jesus, Jamie!" Clara leapt up to the open door of her secretary office, half believing that he would in fact commit murder judging by the manic look in his eyes.

"He's the one, Malc," Jamie had stopped attempting to strangle Glenn with his own fists and was now almost hopping up and down on the spot, buzzing with angry energy. "You better start doing your pelvic floor exercises, Cullen or you'll be pissing Intel everywhere next!"

"Jamie-"

"I bet your knickers are so wet from all your fucking leaking that fucking Nessie has made a home in there!"

"Jamie, Jesus Christ, fuck!" Malcolm dragged him away by the collar, fuming as Clara watched with wide eyes. Malcolm pulled a struggling Jamie over to her office and shoved him inside. Clara hopped out of the way as the bundle of Scottish rage tumbled through.

"You're fucking pyscho, son," Malcolm ran a hand through his hair and breathed an irritated sigh. "Let me deal with the fate of this tosser."

Jamie balled his hands up into fists, not in an indictation that he was going to hit Malcolm but to control his own rage. He ground his teeth together in aggitation. "I was trying to-"

"Leave this to me, for fuck sake," Malcolm ordered sternly. He turned to Clara, an almost apologetic look in his eyes. "Keep him here, right, Clara? Don't let him staple anyone's bollocks together or... Or fucking shove a computer hard drive up someone's arse-"

"If I get it up far enough maybe it'll make it to there brain and they'll have a bit of fucking intelligence."

Malcolm shot him a warning look. "Just do your work and make sure he doesn't get into anymore trouble while I sort this out, right?"

Clara nodded briskly, assuming that this was the closest to politness that she was going to recieve from Malcolm.

"And don't fuck up!" He growled, rudeness shining through once again as he slammed the door behind him.

"There's two of you, one of you is supposed to be the nice Scot!" Clara yelled in response, finally feeling the stress of the situation. Jamie snorted at her words as she glared at Malcolm giving out to Glenn through the not-so-soundproof windowed wall of the office.

"Right," She muttered to herself, throwing herself down onto the office chair and squinting at the laptop screen. She looked up at Jamie hopefully, realising suddenly that she had next to no clue what she was meant to be doing. "Run me through what I have to do again?"

Jamie dragged a chair from the corner of the room and brought it to the other side of her desk, flopping down on it and putting his feet up on her desk. He offered her a bright, slightly psychotic smile.

Clara tried not to smile but couldn't help allowing the corners of her mouth to curve upwards as she motioned towards his shoes. "Do you mind?"

"Na, I'm quite fine here thanks."

Clara smiled to herself, noting that this was probably the first time she'd heard the Scot get through one sentence without injecting a harsh swear word.

"Right, this leak, I've got to try and stop it getting to the press?" She questioned, suddenly extremely unsure of herself. She realised she was throwing herself into the deep end here and glanced worriedly outside the window to where Malcolm was still- yes still, roaring at Glenn.

"He's a wee bit disappointed," Jamie nodded, observing where her gaze was directed.

"I'm almost worried he'll burst an artery in his neck," Clara gaped as Glenn stared pointedly at the floor. She caught words like "Fucking" and "Arse-spraying twat" recurring often. She almost winced at the display of aggression.

"Oh, aye, he's always on the brink of an aneurysm," Jamie commented brightly, his anger being swiftly replaced with glee as he watched Glenn cowering away as Malcolm shook his fist at him. He looked at Clara intently, leaning closer as if about to utter something vitally important, his face serious. "Never, and I mean fucking never, look him in the eyes. They say the key to the soul is through the eyes and his is a bottomless pit of shit and so much fire that Old Saint Nick came looking for more coal to give the misbehaving kids."

"Doesn't make a pleasant picture," Clara shuddered, giving a small smile at the comic yet accurate description of Malcolm. "Buy him a pair of sunglasses for his next birthday maybe?"

"Birthday," Jamie scoffed. "He's too evil for those. So yeah, write an email basically saying what a twat that Glenn Cullen is and how he didn't know what he was doing cause he can't tell his head from his arse and-"

"Jamie!" Clara protested, biting back a laugh. "I'm not going to be fired on my first day. Right..."

She began typing away rapidly, leaving out all the swear words Jamie kept suggesting and complying a nice, polite, well put together email.

"Ahoo!" Jamie exclaimed, raising a fist and almost falling off his chair in delight as Malcolm finished with Glenn, leaving the poor man looking positively terrified. "Looks like he just shat himself!"

"Is Malcolm always this... Harsh?" Clara questioned timidly, wanting to know more about this Tucker character. He seemed to be the polar opposite of the Doctor.

"Well he's been working here for fuck know's how long, that's just his personality. Ray of fucking sun shit. He's like that one, you know the one who touched e'rything and it turned to gold?" Jamie's eyes widened as he waited for Clara's nod of understanding. "Yeah, well tha's him only everything he touches turns to fucking inanimate terror."

"This place is mad!" Clara exclaimed with a small yelp, flinging herself down onto her desk and lying face down in the mess of papers she now had to file through. She was tired of it already. She let out a groan and felt Jamie ruffle her hair lightly with a low chuckle. The small gesture was surprisingly gentle coming from the aggressive Scot and Clara found that it was not unwelcome, though brief. She needed friendly human contact after a hectic morning like this.

"Why did you come to work here in this shithole anyway? You don't seem like the type of lass to be in a place like this," She heard Jamie question, curiousity lacing his tone, all traces of anger gone for once. She sighed and lifted her head, propping her chin up on her arm to look at him. He had taken his feet down from the table and was looking at her with his arms folded and head cocked to the side, slight smirk on his face.

"I..." Clara paused momentarily. She knew she couldn't tell him the real reason, though a part of her wanted to just to see his reaction. "Why should I tell you my life story anyway?" She grinned teasingly.

"Go on, you can confess whatever it is to me," Jamie smiled widely. "I trained to be a priest, y'know."

Clara let out a guffaw as Jamie's eyes widened in innocence.

"I'm fucking serious!"

"Really?" Clara laughed in amusement. "You're the most unlikely priest ever!"

His language was definitely not very priest like.

"Why?" Jamie spread his arms wide with a half smile. "Dooes my pleasant fucking manner not entice you to spill all your murder secrets?"

Clara laughed loudly, her stress beginning to fade in Jamie's prescence. She should be intimidated by him, in a way she was, but his fluctuating moods varied frequently and he didn't look fit to kill someone at the moment.

The smile slipped from Clara's face as Malcolm Tucker strode in, a bundle of papers in hand.

"Right, my little cock shits, party time's over," He grinned ferally. "Thanks for preventing him from causing a fucking fire by glaring at someone too hard. Come on, Jamie, go get Ollie, it's time to oil up and get fucking."

"That Oxbridge prick?" Jamie exclaimed incredulously as he got up to follow Malcolm. "Christ, this must be a real catastrofuck."

He turned as he left the room and gave Clara a quick wink. She grinned as he departed, her mood lightened considerably.

Her good spirits didn't last long. She groaned as she caught sight of the daunting pile of notes and papers stacked ominiously on her desk. She glared at them, hoping fruitlessly that if she stared at them long enough they'd just disappear. She sighed and began sifting through them, filing and taking notes.

What did the Doctor want her to do here anyway? This place was insane, but there didn't seem top be anything alien about it. They only language these people were using were swear words.

Thankfully, as the hectic day went on, she avoided most of that and was not the focus of anyone's rants. The only other contact she got was from Terry when the kindly woman came in to offer her a coffee.

After what felt like days but must have only been hours, Glenn popped his head around the door with a smile.

"As much as I expect you're enjoying this, it's time to head home, Clara."

Clara looked up, her eyes tired and her head aching from staring at a screen for so long. She heaved a sigh and leaned back, flexing her fingers.

"God, I thought that would never end," She groaned, relief flooding through her as she packed up to leave. She chatted amiably with Glenn on the way from the office, parting ways as he went to retireve his own things. She quickened her pace, wanting to return to the Tardis as soon as possible.

"Hai! You!"

Clara stopped in her tracks and spun around at the Scottish rasp to see Malcolm Tucker striding towards her. _Oh God, this is the last thing I need._

"Don't look so worried you fucking twat," Malcolm smiled what Clara expected he thought to be a friendly gesture, but it still held some menace. "How was your first day at the madhouse? Got on okay, no anal rape?"

"Um," Clara cleared her throat and laughed lightly, only half sure he was joking. "Fine, Malcolm, fine. Great."

"Jamie didn't give you any hassle did he?" Malcolm asked as they walked towards the exit. "He can be a bit of a handful."

"Jamie was fine," Clara laughed lightly at the memory of the man she was growing to enjoy the company of. "I think a bit of a handful is an understatment though."

She was tempted to say, _"You're not much better,"_ but decided that now wasn't the time to get into a fight with yet another Scottish psychopath.

"Well today was easy, wear your full body metal fucking condoms tomorrow because there's a shit storm brewing," Malcolm raised his hand in farewell and turned to leave her as they left the building. "Fuckety bye!"

"Bye," Clara shook her head with a smile and slight worry in her heart. Had today even really happened? Everything was so different to what she was used to, she was almost certain she would prefer being face to face with a Dalek than get into a fight with Malcolm or worse, Jamie.

She quickened her pace to a run as she carried on down the street, the cold air biting at her cheeks. The blue box parked neatly in the corner of a small car park nearby was a welcome sight. She flung open the wooden doors and bounded inside, tossing her bag down on the floor, panting slightly.

The Doctor looked up in surprise from his position at the console. He grinned, his smile faltering as she saw the look of slight fear in her eyes. She couldn't help thinking for a split second that it was Malcolm, though she should know better.

"Everything alright, Clara?" The Doctor asked in a kind tone so unlike Malcom Tucker's.

"Fine, just," She swallowed, pausing. Suddenly she couldn't take it anymore. She threw herself down on the Tardis floor and curled up in a ball, letting out a small squeal of indignation as she released all the stress and tension that had built up in her the whole day. She felt a few tears escape at her sudden outburst. "I hate it, Doctor! It's..."

She sat up and wrapped her arms tightly around her knees, rocking slightly and gritting her teeth togetehr tightly as the Doctor stared at her with wide eyes. _God,_ he looked so much like Malcolm.

"It's insane!" She yelled, her breathing rapid. "I've never heard so much swearing in my life, and it's violent and stressful and, Doctor, I think it's the most dangerous situation I've ever been in, and that's including all our flippin' adventures!"

She breathed in deeply after her yell, catching her breath.

"But, Clara," The Doctor chuckled nervously. "Dangerous? Really? I mean-"

"I was in a room for hours with a psychotic Scotsman who kicked a fax machine into oblivion and attempted to murder someone all in the space of one hour so yes, Doctor, it was dangerous!"

"Alright, I'm sorry," The Doctor knelt down beside her and stroked her back comfortingly. "You don't have to work there anymore if you don't want to."

Clara paused, considering. How easy it would be to just leave and not have to deal with it anymore. But she was always strong and determined and she was _not_ going to give up this easily.

"No," She mumbled into her knees. "I'm staying. I wanted a job and I got one. I'm staying."

"You should get some rest then, love," the Doctor murmured, pulling her to her feet. She groaned and made to leave the room. Sleep was top of her to do list right now. She turned just as she reached the door, stopping to look at the Doctor.

"You look so much like him," She shook her head slowly. "But you're nothing like him. I can't find anything odd about him except that he's a psychopath. Did you find anything?"

"No," The doctor scratched the back of his head, a look of fristrartion flitting across his face. "I scanned a few rooms, even managed to get into his office, wasn't that hard, considering I look like him. I didn't stay long, couldn't find anything and I knew you'd kill me if I messed up your chances of keeping your job on the first day."

Clara grinned at the sheepish look on the Doctor's face.

"Night, Doctor," She smiled, turning to leave.

Her bed was a welcome sight as she stumbled into her room, throwing off her uncomfortable shoes and flinging herself down on the bed with a soft "oomph" noise. She was exhausted, and it didn't take long for her to drift off, visions of certain angry Scottish men dancing around in her head.

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**Hope you enjoyed that guys! :) If you want, leave a review to let me know if you like it and what you think :)**


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